Hunt
by repmetsyrrah
Summary: The old myth is what drives her into the woods, following a trail torn through the trees by a creature who only that morning had stood in the garage with her, smiling as she sat on the old bench watching him work. S/T AU.


This fic was inspired by a tumblr post about an old English myth about werewolves. Seemed like the appropriate day to post it. Also, this is my 100th fic on . Yay!

Betaed by the awesome babageneush.

Enjoy!

**Hunt**

* * *

><p><em>If one who truly loves and trusts the werewolf calls him by name he will turn back to his human form.<em>

The old myth is what drives her into the woods, following a trail torn through the trees by a creature who only that morning had stood in the garage with her, smiling as she sat on the old bench watching him work.

Sybil Crawley has been brought up on the old stories, trained to deal with creatures many consider only legends.

Her family has long seen themselves as managers of the divide between two worlds. Hunting those who would kill and helping the more benevolent creatures to exist peacefully in the natural world.

There's less of them now though, the supernatural fading along with the old world. It's no longer just the aristocracy with easy access to the sorts of weapons that can down a werewolf or treat a bite. And supernatural medicine has advanced beside its natural counterpart. These things are treatable now.

Her family's purpose is disappearing, though not quite gone completely.

She wonders when it had happened, how he had been bitten. It must be recent, this had all the hallmarks of a first change. She wonders if Branson knew anything about it. Some did, though she thinks if he had known he would have prepared for what was coming.

The inside of the cottage had been torn to pieces, the door ripped from its hinges by what had gone through it and into the woods. He can't have known what was going to happen to him tonight.

Her heart tightens as she thinks of how terrified he must have been when it had started. How awful and confusing his return to humanity will be.

She needs to help him.

Sybil draws her shawl around her shoulders tighter, needing the comfort it brought, though at the pace she has set the warmth remains irrelevant.

She only has a few hours until morning when Carson will discover the state of the cottage and inform her father. There'd be no doubt as to what had happened and then the hunt would begin.

She runs faster, the trail through the trees fresher now.

She will not allow them to hurt him.

_You're too scared to admit it but you are in love with me._

His voice comes into her mind so clearly she almost falters, half expecting to see him leaning against a tree ahead, his familiar, knowing smile that makes her heart jump and sends butterflies skittering through her stomach.

She shakes it off and continues her chase. Now is not the time to reopen that argument. She needs to help him, and then they can think of other things.

Except, does she really still need to wonder?

Here she is, having run into the woods in slippers, without a single piece of silver and every intent to save him with her only option an ancient myth, an old remedy no one has used in centuries.

She runs faster. The forest around her is quieter now but she doesn't have to wonder at why for long.

The wolf is waiting for her in the next clearing. He must have heard her, not that she was making any attempt to hide.

She notes the narrower muzzle and larger size that distinguish him from a true wolf but she doesn't need any confirmation really.

She would know him anywhere, in any shape.

She faces him with no fear. Logically she knows she has no reason to think he won't rip her to shreds yet… she knows without a shadow of doubt he won't hurt her.

Her hand reaches out towards him, an offer of assistance, if he is willing to take it.

"It's alright," she calls to him.

The wolf snarls and stalks closer.

"Tom."

The wolf stops.

"Tom," she calls again. "It's alright, Tom. I trust you."

He moves nearer, his pace faster and still Sybil doesn't move.

"I love you."

Another snarl rips through the air between them.

He continues towards her but his gait is lopsided now and Sybil hears the growls in his throat softening into something else.

Something more human.

He's naked when he finally falls at her feet, and she hears a sob tear itself from his throat.

She falls to her knees and gathers him in her arms, paying no mind to his lack of clothing. He's shaking as she pulls him into her embrace but his hands find their way to her, grasping her arms tightly as she holds him.

"It's alright," she promises, stroking his hair and kissing his head softly. "Tom, it's going to be alright."


End file.
